


black coffee.

by cha_lan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst to Fluff, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, Set in a Coffee Shop, jihoon is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29917218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cha_lan/pseuds/cha_lan
Summary: The unconscious mind is powerful. Sometimes it can conjure up thoughts from the past. Sometimes it can lead people back to places of high significance.Alternatively, Jihoon unexpectedly finds himself in the same coffee shop where he first met his ex. Could this be history repeating itself? Or will a different outcome be the product?
Relationships: Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Reader
Kudos: 3





	black coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: light angst to light fluff.
> 
> Warnings: some wallowing about a break-up.
> 
> *originally posted to my tumblr on 210306 as part of my teacup collection

Jihoon is struggling to think of a time where he last felt genuinely happy.

Wait—no—yes, he can; it was with _them_.

Ah, yes. The way that their laugh would effortlessly echo and work its way into his heart, the way that their smile could illuminate any room without them trying. The way that _I love you_ would escape their lips so easily.

The way that Jihoon could return the same sentiment.

Yet, from this same person, Jihoon had learned that nothing lasts forever—especially in a young love that seemed powerful enough to last a lifetime.  
  


The boy has struggled with feeling a considerable closeness to others, particularly in romantic relationships, but perhaps in all interpersonal, dyadic bonds. He’s previously doubted his ability to withhold one of considerable length; the belief of being so lousy at relationship maintenance often permeates in his mind. So, when he was approached for the first time by his, now, ex-lover, he had felt the pressuring weight lift from his chest.

There was a twinkle in their eye the moment they spoke their first words to him. It was a mere hello, followed by an introduction of their name, yet it made a lasting impression on Jihoon. He had unexpectedly spent the remaining hours of winter-sunlight sat in an uncomfortable cafe chair, simply getting to know them. There, countless, seemingly meaningless conversations took place. But it no longer was meaningless when they asked to see Jihoon again. And again. And eventually, Jihoon had found himself longing to be in their presence, too.

Today, now that he thinks about it, he’s in the same cafe where he had first met them. The unconscious mind is powerful—it had led him to a place of great importance from one definite moment in time.  
  


Today is the first day where he’s managed to leave his apartment. Although he had no destination in mind, Jihoon had known that he needed a change of scenery as much as his brain was yelling at him to remain in the comfortable cage of his bedroom. Of course, living in that box of safety may be simpler, but it’s no proper way of life.

Jihoon watches the wave of strangers flooding in and out of the cafe: unknown faces that don’t meet his gaze busy themselves in their personal routines. Could he, perhaps, be yearning to see one that he recognizes within that sea of unfamiliarity?

No. _No_ , that would be counterproductive. That would be the relapse Jihoon doesn’t need. No one needs that.

The boy feels as if he should be angry at them. Still, the emotion doesn’t seem to surface. Instead of anger, he feels guilt; he feels condolence. Some longing worms its way into the mix—nostalgia is a bittersweet sensation.

When those _I love you_ ’s were once so easy to utter, suddenly, one day they weren’t. They became forced, along with all of the hugs and kisses and other fleeting touches of intimacy. Everything became dreaded; everything became arduous. Everything became questionable.

Jihoon had begun to doubt everything he had known.

Why—when faced with a beautiful and meaningful relationship—why does Jihoon doubt his feelings?

It wasn’t a sudden change of heart, but a slow, gradual shift of adoration to disapproval, value to dislike. It was an easy transition from once feeling joyous to instead drowning in impossible burdens: an unexpected suffocation by the wilted flowers of despair that began to fill his lungs, killing him from the inside out.

Jihoon stalls, stuck in his thoughts. Even something as simple as debating whether or not he should get a refill of his coffee weighs down in a heavy pressure atop his shoulders. He’s tired; he’s physically tired and tired of wallowing in self-pity. He’s done with feeling miserable.

His eyes scan the overhead menu from his seat in the corner of the quaint cafe. Perhaps trying a new drink is the spring to lift him from this heaviness. Jihoon mumbles the different menu items to himself when abruptly, an echoing laugh catches his attention from across the room.

The irritating sound is enough to set Jihoon back into his brooding mood—that is until he finds his eyes taking him to the source of the sound.

And that’s where he sees you for the first time.

You laugh once more, likely at something your friend from across the table has said to you. You cover your mouth with your hand as you giggle, your long-sleeve bunching nearly all the way to your fingertips.

Jihoon finds himself inexplicably entranced by you (and nearly wishing you wouldn’t cover your grin with your hand). It’s as if you’re someone familiar to him, possibly someone he recognizes.

Or, maybe, you’re only a reminder of someone he already knows well enough.

He forces his gaze from you, not wanting to seem like some strange person lurking in the corner of the cafe just to prey on others.

Jihoon stands from his chair with uneasiness building in his stomach. He makes his way to the front counter, repeating his decided order—his usual go-to drink—over and over again in his head like a mantra to distract himself from your blinding, nearly-contagious smile.

But instead of his haphazard plan, Jihoon finds himself walking over to where you’re sitting; he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Now, _this_ is much different than his typical order.

Your laugh twinkles, resounding once more within the cafe’s bustling atmosphere, with your smile brighter than the sun beaming down onto the sidewalk outside.

The boy clears his throat, urging you to look up at him.

You’re even more breathtaking when you meet his gaze: an unmissable sparkle in your eye.

“Hi, I’m Jihoon.”

It’s a plain introduction of his name, and yet, it makes a lasting impression on you.


End file.
